


Ozymandias

by Deirdreh



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Characters getting triggered, Characters may die... idk who but they will die, Codependency, Complicated and Unhealthy relationship, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Dark Thor, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Disabled Character, Emotional Unstable Characters, Established Relationship, Everybody is miserable and struggling but trying (like irl), F/M, Genderfluid Loki (Marvel), M/M, Negative character development, Possessive Behavior, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Rough Sex, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, Thanos death, Trauma and aftermath, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unreliable Narrator, WIP, Weird twin bonding shit, anger issues, oblivious loki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2020-07-30 12:55:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20097556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deirdreh/pseuds/Deirdreh
Summary: “The King is dead. Long live to the King.”Or where Thor kills a monster and gazes for far too long into the abyss that has become his heart, and Loki comes back to him only to realize that is too late.(Set at the start of Endgame)





	1. Long Nights and Red Flags

**Author's Note:**

> While writing I always have a lot of things to put here but then when posting the fic my mind goes like this bitch is empty... So 🤷♀️
> 
> Anyways, thanks to Chrys for betaying this work, without him all this would be a mess!

“(…) the rain fell; and falling, it was rain,  
but having fallen, it was blood.”  
\--Siope, A Fable. **|** Edgard A. Poe

**.**

Thor’s mouth suddenly goes dry ; his tongue weighing down in his mouth as if it were made of uru. The inside of his throat is parched and he has to swallow down sour bile. It leaves a burning  sensation as it slips down slowly, as if he had been given acid to drink .

He welcomes it. 

What else is there to do? Nothing. 

He can feel it settle in the pit of his stomach, nesting there, like some kind of infection. It incubates and then unfolds bursting in his insides, in silence, piling something that soon takes over his chest: a mad spiraling void, piercing and consuming. 

_It is real._

_There is_ nothing _more_.

_And it falls all over him._

Stombreaker heaves on his hand. 

The air thickens, dense with charge; lighting is going to strike som e where, either dangerously close or far away. He feels its birth, breaking the skies and slurping all the ozone in the air. He feels it feeding off his rage, draining it from each one of his bones. It’s oddly familiar, even sweet and comforting. He feels it waking up from a long forced rest, or finally freeing itself from an eternal confinement. 

There is  nothing  he can do to amend it.

For the first time in his godly life he has been completely defeated, bested, humiliated. He has failed; he has  _nothing_ . He has dust sticking in his tongue, besmirching his hands, stuck in his lungs,  _defiling_ him. It is the void tearing him apart from the inside, tearing the universe with him too. 

_He could not stop it and now he cannot undo it. _

But he can avenge it.

The thunder cracks, hits the soil with an explosion that shakes the roots of Yggdrasil itself. 

Stombreaker feels incredibly lighter, feels liberating, feels _his_. It’s almost intoxicating; the move he makes sends electric pulses through his veins, pure ecstasy and raw adrenaline, it blinds him. Fills every cell in his body with a primal emotion similar to pleasure or joy. The blade cuts the meat easily and finely. It feels like killing off a wild vermin that robbed the farmers of their cattle.

Thanos’ head runs down the floor.

“What– What did you do?” distantly he hears the rabbit say.

The answer comes naturally for him.

“I went for his head.”

Then absolute silence swamps the place.

**.**

**.**

When he wakes up, he does it in immeasurable agony, a sharp edged pain that pierces and stabs and tautens and tears him apart. And there’s not enough air; the pressure in his chest is simply unbearable. It is going to crush his ribcage. _He knows_, he knows the sound it is going to make. 

_Crack. CRACK. CrAcK. _

_His_ _neck._  
His neck is grotesquely twisted and compressed ,  his windpipe is broken . He is sure his throat must be  all open , exposed to the universe.    
And  _CrAcKcRaCkCrAcK_

For a moment everything is agony. For a moment there’s nothing but despair. For a moment Loki wishes he had died. And then the moment begins to lengthen, begins to expand as the galaxy itself, and the moment is not a moment anymore but an eternity. 

And Loki is in agony and  _alive_ .

And floating, adrift in the middle of a galaxy.

It feels like falling forever into the empty space.   
It feels like a joke, a cruel and known joke.

And then, after an eternity and a moment, he crashes against something ; a moon.

**.**

It takes time, and patience, self-control, and pain.  _So much pain_ . But he somehow finds a way to come back, finds the thread that guides him into a root that shapes into a path. Loki follows it. 

With each step there is pain; a constant remainder of his error, his sins, his punishment and that he is alive, but barely. With every move he hears a crush echoing throughout each part of his body ; his whole structure crackling. And in that instant his throat begins to stretch, almost as if it’s going to tear itself apart, and then his limbs fails him, his chest collapses. And he sees red, and black, and white and  _nothing_.

_And red again._

_Brother._

And a word, perhaps a whisper or perhaps a hallucination, a delusion of his twisted mind.

And the empty space that expands forever.  It is alive ,  it’s life itself . 

A drop of water in the middle of the desert. A sweet temptation in which Loki falls, because Loki is weak and condemned to commit that sort of sin, that hilarious mischief.

_ And   
The sun. _

And then there is;  _everything_. All of a sudden; the air, the soil, the grass, the light too bright it burns him, the sounds of-of  _life_ astonishes his ears. His senses are being overwhelmed by life itself; the wet-cold and polluted air so particular of Midgard. 

It almost disgusts him. This place so plagued with the typical stench of mortals’ existence and yet, a force more ancient and mighty gets through, despite these creatures’ attempts to tame it ; the wildness of nature breaking through death. It’s life climbing up death’s shelf, crackling it and stepping over. 

The  sun shines over him, like a dying star that holds onto living a second more to burn alive and be seen from millions of light years, and galaxies and multiverses. The sun burning up his very skin ; Loki understands it for the first time in his life.

It is  the everything crushing his entire body, and it hurts and he welcomes it.

**.**

Once his physical structure gets used to operating in a realm again –Loki has always been the master of his body and mind, although there were certain circumstances that are beyond even gods. They could lose the fight but Loki always gets things back under his control– and once it is, it is not that hard to spot the thread that guides him onto the path of what he wants.

**.**

(_But what he wants has his own wants._)

**.**

It’s past dawn when Loki senses what is about to come. It’s a tug on his chest, the thread pulling off with a force proper enough to break his breastbone; it almost drags all his  _hamr_ and his  _hugr_ . It aches and bites his nerves with anxiety. 

The thread has guided him into the Avengers compound. He knew that the Stark Tower was not where the Avengers lodged anymore; however, this new place was totally unknown to him, until now. 

At least this one has real herbage, he thinks, even a river and fresh air, and is out of the pollution of the mortal’s city.

Loki heads where a group of trees are gathered together, forming a small forest. The coolness the shadows the trees make gives him a kind of comfort or solace –Loki cannot exactly put it into words, but it feels right, like he belongs there– so he stays there, waiting.

Not much time passes –or so he thinks, his sense of time might be quite… compromised due to past circumstances– when a ship enters the atmosphere, from what he can see it is not Midgardian’s craft. Mortals are but novices in such technologies. 

A woman lands first in the open area, in front of the building. Loki has never seen her, nor does he recall his brother including her in any of his feats with his so called brother-in-arms, and Thor  would have talk about someone like her. This woman, human it seems, possesses a great and unusual power inside her. No, Loki realizes, she is not merely human, that’s what she has chosen to cling onto.

She suddenly turns around, as if something has caught her attention. Loki presses himself into the trees, imitating a shadow, becoming one, just to assure his position. But soon she is distracted for something that requires her attention more urgently, and grabs Loki’s attention too. There is a mortal coming out of the compound, this time Loki recognizes them as Stark’s woman. She and the woman look each other in the eyes and he knows their eyes tell a lot, though he doesn’t know exactly what they’re saying, neither does he feel compelled to know. 

Loki has a bad feeling about this. Something in the air smells… wrong, its repulsive taste invading Loki’s mouth.

Then, finally, the alien ships lands. It may take but mere minutes for the beings inside it to get out, nevertheless Loki feels like another eternity passes and like time keeps extending–always unforgiving–, slowing down everything and feeding on his exasperation.

Loki tenses, his mouth goes dry, his throat aches and there’s sour bile he has to swallow down which settles heavy in his chest. It scratches the insides of his windpipe, makes him more desperate. He has to force himself to remain calm. He fidgets his fingers, rubs his throat and quickly puts his hands down.

People get out of the ship, one by one, some of them he recognizes ; the Captain, the Widow, Banner, Stark’s friend. Some of them he does not, a strange kind of fox or rabbit or cat –maybe all three of them– and a woman, more machine than being. Then with a flash of horror he remembers her. It’s Nebula, Thanos’ misbegotten daughter. 

Loki ignores the strange sense of uneasiness she gives him. Ignores the look of complete desolation each of them wears. Ignores the pressure on his chest about to explode, and ignores the disarray that has become his mind. Loki has to ignore the snake-poisoned whispers in his ear and everything else, pressing himself more up against the tree, sinking in the shadow.

Then the air fills with  static, that leaves on his skin a burning sensation. Loki tries to ignore that too, and the pounding in his chest is painful to a point that he almost cannot bear it. But he stands on his feet, he has to, he has to see –

_Thor_. He is the last one exiting that blasted ship. 

And suddenly the world becomes too real, it’s like the force of gravity itself has materialized and draws his body down, smashing his bone structure. Loki watches Thor, and he doesn’t even have to look into him, his face is enough. Enough to make Loki realize, take into consideration the situation –he hadn’t thought about it before. How could he not think about it? 

The Mad Titan has won. And he, Loki, has been not only useless in his attempt of stopping him but also he has helped in his action.

The truth finally comes out, strips bare the lie, raw and unraveled,  there are  _no more tricks_ for him to rely on. Just truth, the truth  which he’s burdened with.

Suddenly there’s no air. Suddenly he’s being crushed. He sees red, red, red and black and purple and– The stench of despair, no hope, no life; Asgardians’ bodies, <strike> _his _ </strike> <strike>_people_</strike>, his brother’s people–limp, lifeless, scattered all over the cold metal floor as if they were less than hunted dams. Blood sprawling and filling the place, dying laments and pleading answered with death. 

Death.  _No tricks this time,_ _ just death_.

Loki’s body moves without him being aware, he walks out of the trees, out of the shadows and out of its protection. Walks enough for his presence to be noticed and it is only there he realizes what he has done; he has given himself away.

Everyone’s eyes are on him, he is made so aware that it makes him uneasy. He feels naked, unable to think, vulnerable. He tries to put his mind to work, tries to weave some scheme, pull some trick, something,  _anything_ . But there’s nothing, there’s only–

_Silence_ . 

He notices the Avengers going completely still yet he senses they are prepared to attack; he senses their willingness, their hunger, their desperation,  their need of battle, of fighting another war and win it this time. Nevertheless nobody dares to move a muscle.

Then he is made aware of the one person’s gaze he cares about. And suddenly the air comes back, fills his lungs with the force of gravity, and Loki just freezes there. Chained with the weight of each one of his own decisions his  sins, that brought him here with Thor and his judgment.

Thor starts walking towards him, Loki notices he holds an axe in his hand –it makes him think on Mjolnir but somehow, he knows, it is completely different–.  Thor’s steps shake the soil, perhaps even the very roots of Yggdrasil ,  static plasters the air . And Loki, Loki still doesn't move, doesn't even blink, heart violently pounding in his chest as he tries to reason that it imploding is simply not possible. 

He tries to think that whatever is about to come, whatever is about to be done to him, whatever <strike>_his_</strike> <strike> _ brother_ </strike> the thunderer decides for him, is justice. He accepts it, makes amends with it,  tries to swallow that lie. 

(_The phantom of a noise –crackcrackcrack– climbs up his limbs, buzzes in his ears and wraps in his neck._)

When Thor reaches him, he faces Loki and he can see the storm in his mismatched eyes, can read  hagall  carved with blood that does not belong to him. And they have gone dark in a way Loki has never seen in the long ages they have shared together. There’s nothing of that electric-blue-storm left in Thor’s eyes; so stubborn and full of warrior’s pride, no, not anymore. Now there’s only this deep endless darkness, a maelstrom of bloodlust and Thor is clearly starved. It does not even compare with those turbulent years where Thor’s berserker blood-spirit had been unleashed and gone wild, resisting to be tamed. 

And the Thunder looks at him and Loki is not able to discern time anymore, the world disarming in thousands of gust of wind and running in all directions. Loki thinks he is unable to do anything but feel death climbing up and buzzing and wrapping around his limbs. 

Thunder writhes in Thor Odinson’s veins, Loki knows he doesn’t quite control it, neither is he trying to. It engulfs every inch of his skin. And Loki can only look at him and feel his own limbs going slack.

And then  the Thundered  is lunging at  Loki , caging him with his heavy hand and grappling his  shoulders , and then his hands are everywhere, and then  _he_ is just manhandling  Loki as if he were a ragdoll, and Loki just lets him.  _He_ tears the collar of his attire, rips it apart and Loki just squeezes his eyes shut waiting. As his heart pounds violently, he thinks this is fair, finishing what was started.

One of Thor’s hands wraps around the back of his neck and the other grips his cheek, the roughness of the actions makes Loki squirm away, it hurts him. But then a word is spoken in a manner Loki does not expect nor deserves.

“_Loki_,” _Thor_ calls his name in a tone that’s so soft and fragile, needy and desperate, and the trickster, he is utterly wrecked. 

_Does this mean...? Could it possibly be...?_ He wants to ask, he wants to know, but he can’t bear anything anymore. He wants to speak his brother’s name but all that he manages is a ragged stutter and then a painful tug from the insides of his throat; it feels like swallowing a dry sharp object.

Nevertheless he has no time to comprehend or think about anything else because  he is being pulled by those hands , and then Thor crushes his mouth against his.  Demanding and taking a kiss.

It’s rough and somewhat forced, and it may not look like a real kiss. Thor’s mouth, lips, teeth and tongue trashing over Loki’s. But it’s as if Loki has been deprived of reason, has been reduced to a ravenous creature ; full of want and desire and fear. Has been denied and has denied himself so bad so hard, during so much time. That every barrier or red flag just breaks and Loki just gives in  _and in_. And loses himself as he wraps his arms around his brother, squeezes with all the force he has left, like the serpent he is meant to be, and kisses him back with the same desperation.

Their kiss lingers, Loki doesn’t care for the time anymore, the only thing he cares about is the way his brother’s arms surround him, caressing his back up and down, squeezing his hips and then going up in line with his spine. Stopping only at his nape ; there he grabs a handful of hair and twists it, the sensation fiercely biting his scalp, piercing his skull and Loki can’t help but hiss. Before he can do something Thor pulls him against his body, more and more, crumpling him. 

Loki tries to shift for comfort, lifting his arms and surrounding his brother’s neck. It feels a bit too much but it’s  alright ; Loki is alive, Thor is too. 

His brother does not hate him,  _he wants him_ ,  he wants him as much as Loki wants Thor. Everything is  alright . Loki gently scratches his brother’s scalp and he grunts happily, strokes his  tongue against his as a reward and Loki moans, then Thor bites his upper lip harshly –not that much, just a bit. 

Loki can’t help but think that is getting a bit suffocating. He opens his eyes to speak to Thor and the realization that they are still in the Avengers compound, with the Avengers themselves and others looking directly at  them, hits him. 

Loki presses his palms on Thor’s shoulders, trying to separate them. He attempts to speak but then again there’s the tug and the burning sensation, and Thor’s entire bulk still pressing against his body, without restrictions. The air in Loki’s lungs is slipping away. He tries to speak again but _he just can’t_. Breathing becomes hard, he can’t, he can’t. With the last attempt, desperately, he pushes his brother –he’ll apologize later; he’s apologizing now with his gaze– and Thor loosens his hold, but not without growling. His arms still surround Loki, but his embrace is lighter. 

For a brief moment they look into each other’s eyes again. Loki wants to speak, to say something; he has something to say, he remembers distantly. But Thor joins his foreheads together and breathes into his air, his brother’s scent, Loki feels robbed, feels enthralled, it’s something intoxicating he knows.

“You are here,” Thor says.  _ Yes ! _ _ Yes_. He wants to say. _ I am  here, I  came back because of you _ . “You are here,” repeats, nuzzling their foreheads and noses together. Something they used to do when they were children after being separated. Loki remembers it was the two of them and nothing more, nobody; the world was something that couldn’t touch them.

Loki nods frantically, smiling without even able to control it, although it’s not like he minds. He brings his hands to the side of his brother’s face, stroking the skin –he’ll mind the weird eye late r– and the roughness of his beard – there’s dirt in his cheeks of nasty shade of red, but he can mind that later too–. He  softly  presses their noses together ,  breathing more of his brother’s scent.  _Thor is here and he still wants him. ‘Tis real_. _Thor is still here._ _ Alive, in one piece._ Loki kisses his lips.

Thor pulls him closer by  the hips, embracing Loki’s body and perhaps fulfilling that promise of the long forgotten hug back on the Statesman. He buries his head in Loki’s neck, and Loki kind of wants to pull away, kind of wants to escape, but he doesn’t,  _he can’t–_ _ he_, he wants this. 

His brother peppers kisses along the too sensitive skin, making him shiver. Traces a path until he reaches Loki’s ear, lips tickling the shell and then he  purrs , softly, almost tenderly: “I have done it, Loki. I killed him.”

Loki’s heart stops abruptly, a shudder creeping down his spine and bile climbing up from his windpipe. ( CRACK )  _All over again, all over again, a new sensation he can’t escape. _

_What?_

The thunderer breaks away from his ministrations and faces him, one hand cradling his scalp the other surrounding his waist. He nods, smile forming in his face “I went for the head and cut it off. Killed him like the beast he was.” The easiness with which the word slips from his mouth, the peaceful look he has, almost mirthfully, satisfied. 

_ Killed like the beast he was. The death a monster deserves. No honor, just death and nothing else, and nothing after.  A beast, his life worth less than an insect. A monster haunted and sliced down; turned into a ragdoll. _

_ ( crackcrackcrack ) _

Loki feels dizzy. In the middle of a world spinning just too damn fast, being tossed like the ragdoll he fears he has become, limp and broken. Too much to process, too many thoughts, too many questions. 

“I did it,” says his brother. “Loki, for you. _For you.” And for Heimdall, and for Asgard.__ And this entire damned universe_. Thor thinks Loki thinks–_knows_ that he’s thinking. 

And Loki for once feels himself at a loss for words; for once his precious silver tongue falters him, tangling in his mouth. The aching in his throat becomes present once more.

_No, no._

Loki thinks, appalled at his thoughts, shaking off the webs of scheming in the back of his mind.

That Mad Titan is dead, finally. The world has been set free from his tyranny, his madness,  his foulness. E ven if it is already doomed it  is free. Loki is free too. And all thanks to his brother, Thor, he had been the one burdened with such responsibility and he has been successful. Loki knew he would be.

“ _Brother_– ” Thor pleads, demands his prize. Loki kisses him. And kisses him, and for one moment the only thing that Loki has in mind is how easy it would be to surrender, to allow himself to be dragged and swallowed by this.

To give in the warm wetness of Thor’s mouth, Thor’s rough comforting touch, Thor’s eager, nay,desperate want for him, just for him. _All for Loki_. It is just allowing himself an indulgence, a little sin, sweet and intoxicating like a dream. To let himself lose himself in this sort of affection, just a little while, can’t do any bad. Yes, Loki thinks, like this he can surrender. Just a little, just for a while.

**.**

**.**

There’s an awkward rough cough behind them and then Thor is all of the sudden dragged back to the soil of this realm, the weight of polluted atmosphere gets in his nostrils and infest s his lungs and mind. 

Yet Thor refuses to answer for it means he has to separate himself from Loki, break the spell that has him bewitched and that he simply does not desire to break. What he wants  now is to linger a while in this long-known and familiar affection. Sink himself into Loki, and his fragrance of pinewood drenched in snow and smothered bonfire, his smooth – _so, so smooth_ – ivory skin tepid to the touch, even the cape of cold damp seems fine –too fine– to his likes, and  oh  how he wants him.

He has lost everything–    
No, no. He  _thought_ he had lost, lost  him  once more. One more cursed time.  “_The Norns weave cruel threads, especially for gods,_” his Mother told him the first time he had lost Loki. And that thought alone fills his veins with a scalding thick fluid, pulsing and whispering one selfish desire.  Like anger but hungrier.

But Loki breaks the spell, leaving him empty. Rogers clears his throat behind them, again and more roughly this time, calling his name. And Loki pushes him away, as if his touch was cursed and burned him. Thor does not let him go too far, tightening the grip he has on Loki’s waist; he had chosen him after all, had come back to him, the place he belongs.

Knowing his brother won’t indulge him again; Loki has turned his face to the side, trying to fix his gaze on a  more interesting  point between the grass and the distant trees. Thor decides to face Rogers grunting and frowning.  _How dare this mortal?_

“What do you want?” he spits. Rogers gives him a look that, for an instant, seems stuck between startled and concerned but quickly composes himself.

“Answers,” he says, holding his gaze just a moment more and then fixes it on Loki, who still hasn’t turned his face. “I want answers… just that. I think we  _all_ need them,” Rogers keeps his voice smooth, but Thor notices every word he speaks there’s severity and–and something more. He can see it clearly, yet cannot put a name to it; at any rate Thor does not like it in the slightest.

Rogers seems to  perceive  that and adds, “But first we should go inside, it’s getting late.”

Thor looks at him, nods and waits for him to leave. Rogers seems to be expecting for them to start walking, but as clever as ever realizes that is not happening and so he leaves. 

Just when he is meters away from them, Thor looks back at Loki and squeezes his hip gently so he can see his face again, but his brothers is as always reluctant to do what Thor asks him to. 

“Let us go, brother,” he tells him instead and Loki nods.

They head to the compound walking slowly, both of them in no rush. Loki seems busy with his own thoughts, which is not at all strange. The strange is that Loki is too quiet, too docile, too lost in his thoughts. Thor knows his brother, at least well enough to notice that, and because he knows his brother, he knows he cannot let that go unnoticed. 

It  sets a prickling anxious feeling that twists the strings of the knot in his chest tighter. 

Thor does not let go nor loosens his grip in Loki’s body. Loki does not comply. 

**.**

Everything is in silence when they are all reunited in the main hall of the compound. The silence is like a  phantom  that had found its way into everyone and now they have to carry it everywhere they go. A  phantom or half of the universe’s life that is now simply lost forever. 

Thor can see they all share the same weight now. That it is more real than ever. That they have lost even though they have won the battle, killed the monster,  exterminated the plague from  the root. But it does not feel like that, it feels like  _he_ has won again. For the third time, Thor has failed even in fulfilling his promise of revenge.

No, the others don’t share the same weight as him. His is much heavier, his is far too bloodstained and brutal and unforgivable, and his would remain in cold corpses drifting in the emptiness of space, that wouldn’t have been brought back even if they had succeeded in reversing the snap. Thor had been defeated long before, in what he couldn’t even call an honorable battle; it was a slaughter, it was death, it was his failure and nothing would amend it now. 

Thor feels the need to leave them, go away from them. He can’t bear sharing the same space. 

He sits in an armchair in the next hall. 

And feels adrift, nay, he feels sunken. 

Then there’s a pliant body at his side, warm and familiar and squeezing closer, he feels his call.

His brother, Loki is looking at his eyes directly and there’s that same phantom haunting him too, Thor can see it in the lack of fire in his green eyes, fires that have long been doused. Nevertheless he tries to smile and brings a hand up to Thor’s face and caresses him. His touch is  everything  to Thor and he leans into it, without taking his eyes of Loki’s. He feels enthralled and craves for more. 

Then Loki makes a face, frowning and puckering his nose, his fingers trace a path until they reach his right eye and Thor realizes what the problem is. 

“My friend, Rabbit, gave it to me. After the–” Thor trails off  abruptly  being drowned by terrifying images. He shakes his head trying to push them away. “He’s been a good friend to me; he gave me my eye back, followed me in my quest to find a weapon for –”

Silence again, Loki gently squeezes his cheek, it’s almost comforting. “Though I know not where the eye comes from and it mismatches the other one, but it works,” 

Thor feels the need to touch his brother’s body, like a desperate man trying to hold to an anchor,  his anchor. So Thor wraps a hand around Loki’s chest and holds him there, still clinging to his touch, his eyes. Brings him closer yet.

“What do you think?” he asks.

Loki purses his eyebrows and nose, again and even harder than before, it’s a comical gesture and it is even funnier that he despises it so much. Thor should have guessed. He would laugh but he finds all he can do is smile at his brother hoping it’s enough and Loki smiles back at him almost  apologetically . 

“Yes, I do know. But you should meet him; I know he and you would make a remarkable duo,” there’s something similar to a shiver running up his spine, firing up his mind. Something  like an idea. “In fact you should meet him right now. He’s here… well somewhere here, not so far.” 

He stands up dragging Loki with him ; in a motion so fast that his brother stumbles but Thor has him well secured in his hold so he does not worry much. 

“Rabbit! My friend, where ar e you?” he exclaims, and he let s go of Loki’s chest to hold his hand instead and guide Loki in his search.

He finds Rocket back in the main hall, sitting on the couch with Nebula at his side. He turns around when he hears Thor’s call.

“There you are!” Thor cries out approaching them, behind him his brother follows his steps, their hands firmly clasped together.

Rocket flinches back a bit, awkwardly, and Thor does not understand why but he soon recovers and straightens to face him.

“Hey Thor! Yes, here I am,” he says, his voice sounds as funny as ever. “And here you are. Yelling my name all the way over here, I think everyone around has noticed by now that we’re both here.”

Thor laughs at the comment. He does really like  Rabbit, he is a good man, warrior and leader, always making the snarky comment, always having a witty response, always making Thor laugh.

“Aye my friend, I searched for you because I have someone I want you to meet. Both, I mean, I want the both of you to meet,” Thor feels a pulse of– of joy sprinting up his veins and he brings Loki closer, he comes a bit clumsily and huffing softly. “Rabbit this is my brother, Loki.”

Thor meets his brother’s eyes and finds them blinking in confusion and in response squeezes his hand, smiling fondly at him. “Loki, this is my friend I’ve been talking about, he is Rocket the Rabbit, Captain of the Benatar and leader of the Guardians of the Galaxy.”

Thor realizes of the error just after he says so and he turns back with the intention of apologizing but he is not certain what to say. 

“ Oh , ”  Rabbit says after a moment, almost ignoring Thor’s error. “So this is  your brother,” there’s an oddity in his words, as if he were completely puzzled.

Thor understands. “Listen, I know what I said but I also mentioned that he has already come back before. And he came back once again! He came back to me.”

He turns yet again to face his brother and finds him staring at Nebula. Thor notices something strange that he cannot articulate and that she is also staring up at him. Rocket notices it too but he is as lost as Thor is.

A silence falls upon them and lingers. 

“Loki,” she says, extending an arm to him with the intention of clasping their hands. For an instant Thor is certain that there is much more behind these actions. 

Nevertheless, neither of them seems to be acknowledging anything and instead his brother without hesitation meets the grip, nodding politely.

Then Loki extends his arms to Rocket and Rocket forces himself out of the confusion to clasp his hand.

“So, yeah, you are Loki, brother of Thor,” Rocket says once more awkwardly. Loki nods, slightly frowning. “It’s… just your… he’s talked a lot of you. Like quite a lot… Though, I guess he did keep some  _details_ to himself.”

At that Thor scowls but decides to ignore it, suddenly feeling weariness take over his body like an abrupt wave hitting him with all its force. Suddenly this mundane  chit-chat tires him to a sickly point. Suddenly all he wants to do is to retire to some quiet place, away from here, away from them, taking only Loki with him.

And that’s exactly what he is planning to do; nonetheless fate has other plans. For Bruce Banner comes to join them, and his presence would not bother him at all but he does not come alone; Colonel Rhodes is with him. Thor does not like this.

“Thor, buddy, I think we need to talk a little bit,” Banner starts to say, “Loki, I have to say I’m glad you are… well, really but—”

“You’re still a war criminal,” Colonel Rhodes cuts in, not attempting to conceal the hostility in his tone and Thor feels the lightning prickling his veins and heating his blood. “Don’t think for a second that because we killed the bigger fish we have forgotten about you. In fact now is a really good time to trap all the rest of his little fishes and put them where they belong.”

Thor hears his knuckles crackling with the force he tightens his fists, static scratching his skin and creating sparks. He  grabs Loki dragging him  behind his body, it’s an instinctive reaction yet he finds it completely rational: a sting that urges Thor to keep Loki at his side at all cost and no matter what it takes. 

Loki for an instant seems tempted to protest but Thor disregards it as it comes to nothing. Loki is silent behind him, he can’t see him but Thor can guess that for the first time in his life his brother is learning to tame that silvertongue and letting his older brother handle the situation.

“Heed your words, Colonel Rhodes, you may be an honorable warrior but Loki is  _my brother_ , and he has paid his transgressions dearly,” Thor growls low , feeling the storm speaking to him in a language that is his and hers only, it’s so enticing and his blood craves to take in all her force and make her a part of him.

“Guys! Please calm down, there’s no necessity for this!” Banner claims. “We can resolve it in a civilized way, c’mon!” 

“Civilized way? Have you both forgotten who he is? Have you forgotten who is the cause of all this? We are talking about the guy who helped invade our planet and slaughtered innocents people TWO FUCKING TIMES. Have you forgotten he is a  _dear_ ally of  _Thanos_ ? ! ” 

That word, that cursed name, reverberates in his ears, drips acid in his mouth. Thor can feel the storm trying to be unraveled, pleading even. He can feel her revolting under his skin, almost tearing him apart, slipping from his pores and yet she’s waiting for his permission. And he wants to give it to her, he wants her to be released, he wants  _his_ release. Every nerve in his body is aching,  _burning_ for it. 

Distantly but clear enough he hears, a clicking-mechanical sound, he recognizes it as the iron armor reading itself for battle. And if it’s battle what he seeks he shall have it ,  Thor takes a step towards him.

“Hey! Hey! HEY! Stop this. Just please stop this, the both of you,” Banner moves in-between them, he looks at Thor pleading with his eyes and then turns to the Colonel. “Rhodes you have to know things  are different now. Loki… He is not that guy, not anymore. If you let me–”

“As I have already said, Loki has paid his transgressions at a much higher price than he ever needed to. If that pacifies your mundane mind, then I can assure you that Loki has paid from his crimes,” in that moment he feels a tug in his arm and knows Loki does not approve of what he’s saying but Thor must ignore him, this is in his favor. “My brother is no ally of that beast. He is but a victim of  _his_ twisted play, he has suffered by  _his_ hand and forced into becoming one of _his_ puppets .” 

Those words,  that very word even unspoken, still echoes his ears, makes the storm writhe and burst and uncoil only to writhe again. He feels her growing and growing; in hunger, blood-thirsty, ravenous and screaming, calling his name, asking to be fed by him, like a rabid hound, his loyal beast. He hears her cry of freedom and growing and growing. 

Colonel Rhodes says something that makes the storm rumble and Banner responds to him, again trying to pacify the climate but the Colonel’s hunger for battle is fiercer and so they start to discuss. They keep repeating that name as if it would mean some th ing.

Distantly Loki is viciously tugging, nails driving into the skin of his arm but he doesn’t pay it any mind. He can’t. He can’t stop. He is now so consumed for the storm, rage filling his veins with the force of lighting and the impact of thunder, it is too much and it’s blinding his vision. Images crossing his mind like painful flashes blistering his corneas. 

(A head being sliced and rolling down and down and ,)

“Do not compare my brother to… that beast… that _óvættr_,” he spits.

Thunder erupting and the lightning striking; inside, outside, far away from this place, he cannot care to find the split anymore. He is too  far gone .

(and corpses sprawled on the floor, a blade sunken in the chest, a neck being crushed…)

“_He_ who slaughtered my people as if they were less than cattle. He who desecrated my friend—my kinsman with his own sword. He who defiled _my_ brother one more time by throttling his neck until it snapped. He who made me look—” (an explosion. 

… And he— _he hadn’t died because he hadn’t gone for the head._ And  then the snap, and the neck, and the dust sprawling in the air, and the head rolling down and down and down .)

‘_STOP_.’

A searing biting pain takes over his arm, climbing up and implacable, burning and unforgivingly cold. It hurts, it is too real and it rips him  dragging  him down to the soil.

And then he is –back– standing in the main hall of the Avengers Compound and there are gazes upon him, the gazes of those he calls friends, and it feels like being pierced by the very sword of Gram.

All of the sudden all the air in his lungs escapes, leaving him unable to breathe. For a brief second he thinks that it’s as if he has forgotten how to breathe. He tries again inhaling and it’s like there were some kind of pressure, something heavy,  something onerous fighting him back. 

‘_Thor_!’

But then he’s able to exhale, it takes some effort and it is painful but he does it, and then he breathes in again, he breathes out. Now his heart pounds in his heart erratically, the world shifting harshly while he stumbles back, trying to get away from this place or trying to steady himself, until he hits some kind of bulk with his back. 

‘_Thor_–’

Thor turns back abruptly and finds Loki staring at him, wide green eyes glassy and trembling with worry. The cold he felt before now sinks heavy in his heart, almost being absorbed by it. Loki’s hand is still wrapped around his arm firmly, bluish shadows shading before anybody can notice, and Thor holds Loki’s arm back. There’s a silent understanding and Thor nods.

He clears his throat and straightens his back, the following words he speaks are a murmur but he’s sure they’re clear enough for the rest to hear him. “We shall retire to my chambers.” 

He does not turn to look at them, not once. Then he’s walking out with Loki at his side. 

**.**


	2. Accroche Moi (Stay Here)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asdhj I'm a disaster and idk anything about updates. I’m so so so sorry.  
As an offering of peace and Christmas gift I post this chapter, that is porn with some plot. Tbh I always tend to lose the plot between the metaphors and the porn, I can’t stop it, i beyond my power.
> 
> So that. I hope there’s still someone interested in reading this 
> 
> Thank you very very much to Parker, without them this would be an horror.

_ “Nay, an this be hell, I’ll willingly be damn’d _ _   
_ _ (…) For I am wanton and lascivious,” _ _   
_ **\--** Doctor Faustus.  **|** Christopher Marlowe.

**.**

Only when they enter Thor’s chambers does he release Loki from his hold. Loki rubs his wrist absently while he watches his brother storm around the place—in search of something, it seems. Leaving him alone, he finds himself unsure of what to do and it makes him feel somewhat lost and anxious, like itchiness. 

Perhaps he should have a word with his brother about what just happened. The way Thor’s mood had changed, so abruptly, it was something else. Loki felt it in his own skin. But then the mortal was asking for it, all of them were. 

They should be nothing but grateful to Thor, and yet they were bitching at him as if he owed them some kind of answer. What ungrateful creatures the mortals are. Loki has always known it and, in truth, he doesn’t expect anything from them, except perhaps their disdain and indifference—a favor he’ll gladly return—but Thor is different. He’s always worrying over their little existences, always saving them from the danger the universe throws at them. They should be grateful, now more than ever! Their pettiness sours Loki’s mood, and with recent events he can only understand his brother’s reaction. Furthermore, if he were in Thor’s place, he would teach them some respect. 

Trying to occupy his mind with something else, he wanders this new place, taking everything in. Bitterness settles in his stomach; this chamber is a mediocre attempt to capture Asgard’s aesthetics and architecture. It feels almost like an insult. Loki shakes his head, trying to shake off the memories of something that now is dust, sentiment. What good will it bring? None. This is what they have now, and it will serve. They will make it work, and then they can—nay, they  _ will _ build something better, more glorious and mighty, and  _ theirs. _

Thor comes back just in time when Loki has decided to sit on one of the couches in the room. He brings under his arm a bottle of what seems to be some kind of bourbon, and two goblets. Loki frowns, he is not sure if this is the most proper thing to do now, but then he thinks: what  _ would _ be the proper thing to do? There isn’t one, he supposes, though the strange odd feeling doesn’t dwindle. 

“A toast, brother; we’ve earned it,” Thor says and sounds more like he needs it. Loki wants to refuse, but Thor, always stubborn, has already poured the liquid into the glasses and urges him to take it. “There!” He smiles at Loki, and Loki feels his heart sting and then, he cannot find the willpower to refuse him anymore. 

He accepts the damn goblet and then they clink their glasses and drink. Loki sipping slowly, watching his brother swallow all the liquid in one methodical motion before filling his goblet again. Loki purses his lips, thinking there’s too much of this new need in the action. It’s like Thor holds onto the bottle as if he were holding the very cure that would save his life, and he drinks it as desperate as a poisoned man. 

Loki wants to say something about it. He wants to stop this, whatever this is. 

“What?” Thor says and it comes out a bit as a snarl. He’s looking at him over the glass; it feels almost as if Thor knows what he has been thinking. “ _ Bah _ . Do not fret that head of yours with unnecessary triteness. I am sure you have enough with your daily ration.” 

_ Hey _ . Loki frowns at Thor. He does not approve, nor can he allow, this kind of disrespect—not anymore, not ever again. Nevertheless Thor laughs as if it were no more than a jest, ignoring his protest and pouring more bourbon to drink. Loki has to turn and look elsewhere, feeling even more insulted. Why does Thor have to be like this? Can he ever not belittle him? Haven’t they moved on from this?

“You are suspiciously silent,” Thor tells him.  _ So now he notices. _ Loki keeps his back to him, does not attempt to respond. He suddenly doesn’t feel the desire to answer that question or any other. 

“ _ Loki _ ,” Thor says, Thor warns, Thor demands. “Oh come, don’t tell me that you are offended now.” 

_ Well, yes, he is.  _ But he will not answer, not now and maybe not for a while. He fixates his look on the ugly paint on one of the walls, expecting that Thor will just let him be. 

“Loki,” Thor growls. And of course he won’t drop it. What Thor wants, Thor gets. It has always been like that. Why should it be any different now? Loki intends to stand up and go, find the restroom and give himself the bath he deserves. However, Thor will not allow that either, roughly grabbing him by the elbow. “Oh no, you cannot do this. You cannot be offended with me. You cannot pretend to have that right.” 

_ He can’t? That  _ ** _right?_ ** _   
_ He tries to pull himself free from the hold, but Thor grips him harder, twisting his arm painfully. 

“I say thee nay!” Thor yells, and sudden thunder jolts the soil under their feet. The thunderer forces him to turn around so he can grab a hold of Loki’s shoulders, clenching him and shaking him. “You cannot escape from this, Loki. I won’t allow you.” 

Loki gasps, jerking his arms in vain. He would say something but he can’t, and Thor keeps clenching him harder, shaking him and yelling things, sounding as if he would have just stabbed him. Loki’s heart hammers against his breastbone awfully, like it might snap it any moment. 

He tries to speak, to make his tongue articulate the words that will gracefully slip away from this situation, but it doesn’t work. It doesn’t work, he forces to say  _ something _ ,  _ anything _ himself. But the only thing that come from his mouth are awful sounds, barely babbling, and Thoe doesn’t hear him, doesn’t listen to him. And the effort of trying to speak makes his throat burn, the muscles impossibly tightening more and more. Loki can’t breath, can’t breath, can’t breath, can’t speak and Thor is mad,  ** _mad_ ** . And Loki can’t reach him.

“Are you listening? You cannot do this to me!” 

_ (crackcrackcrack) _

‘ _ Stop this. You are hurting me _ ,’ Loki tries to communicate, tries to tell him that he simply can’t answer him, but Thor is not listening, too far gone in this new trance. 

“You have to answer me. You can’t run away. YOU CAN’T RUN AWAY FROM ME!” 

‘ _ I cannot speak, Thor, please. _ ’ Loki sinks his nails in the thunderer’s arms, looking him right in his eyes. ( _ CRACKCRACK _ ) ‘ _ YOU ARE HURTING ME. _ ’ 

And then Thor releases him, the action so sudden that Loki stumbles backwards. When Loki recovers his stability, he looks up at Thor. 

Thor seems startled out of his trance, and the look on his face pierces Loki’s chest completely. He looks mortified. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, trying to give a step forward. Loki backs up instinctively, and pain floods his brother’s blue eyes. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t want to—” 

Loki feels a violent shiver run over his whole spine. The sight of Thor like this shakes his mind. In all the millennia he has lived alongside his brother, he has never seen this side of him, and Thor couldn’t have been able to hide this from him. There is little that escapes him, and certainly this could not be an exception—this is new, this is recent. This is so much worse than Loki thought at first. 

Thor’s whole body is trembling, voice breaking in sorrow; he stares down at his hands as if there would be something horrifying in them, and Loki realizes they’re still covered in dry blood and dirt. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Thor mutters again and again, falling to his knees and then pressing his hands to his face, nails sinking and scratching down, breaking the skin and drawing blood. 

_ Shit _ . Loki thinks and for an instant his mind is blank, then he hears Thor’s sobs.  _ Fucking shit. Move Loki, do something _ . And then he’s running to his brother, hands wrapping around his shoulders and trying to make him stand up. 

‘ _ Come on Thor, don’t do this, you don’t have to, _ ’ he tries, gentle and smooth. 

Now Thor’s whole body is shaking thoroughly. Loki runs hands across Thor’s scalp and nape. ‘ _ Oh no, brother. Please. I’m here. _ ’ 

That seems to do something because Thor’s sobbing stops for a moment, then he’s pressing himself into Loki’s legs, embracing with his arms. This time Loki doesn’t avoid him, though the roughness of the movement startles him and he has to cling to Thor’s shoulder to not fall back. 

“Forgive me, brother, please, forgive me,” Thor cries, nudging his face in Loki’s thighs. He still won’t meet Loki’s eyes.

His brother won’t respond to anything else, apparently, so Loki cradles his jaw trying to tilt his head up. ‘ _ Okay _ .  _ It’s alright, Thor. _ ’ 

And just then he eases his grip and Loki takes advantage to kneel down with him, searching his look so they can finally face each other. Thor’s eyes are swollen with tears. The sides of his face are a mess of his own blood and the dirt of his hands. He’s still pressing them and hurting himself. It’s a mess.  _ Thor _ is a mess. 

Loki removes Thor’s hands from his face and replaces them with his own, closing the distance between their bodies. He forces himself to be gentle, gentler than he’s ever allowed himself in his life, or has even believed himself capable. Thor looks at him, fat tears rolling down his bloody cheeks; Loki cleans them with his thumb. 

‘ _ I said it’s alright, brother. You are forgiven. _ ’ 

“Are you sure?”

The question makes Loki’s heart beat wet and painfully against his chest.  _ Yes _ . He nods frantically, joining their forehead and not breaking their glance.

“I didn’t meant to— _ Lo _ , you have to know that,” his brother tells him, and something sting his tongue but he nods again. 

Then they are kissing, it’s sloppy and messy and desperate, but Loki makes it work, he enjoys it anyway. Teeth clicking, tongues tangling, breath stuck in their lungs as if it were a purely idle activity. Thor brings his hands to each side of Loki’s face, mimicking him, holding onto him as if his own life depends on it. 

Loki’s nostrils flood in the stench of Thor. He does not want to think about what it smells like.

‘ _ I think we do really need a bath _ .’

His brother makes a punctured noise that has nothing to do with a laugh, but they can pretend it is. Then he nods. 

They get up off the floor together as if they were collecting their pieces, one by one, and they hold onto each other, walking step by step, so carefully as if they were to fall apart if they get separated. 

Loki cannot remember the last time they were this close, this together. 

**. **

The restroom is nothing compared to the ones of Asgard’s palace, but it is just enough for beings like them. There’s a large tub, where Loki thinks all the Avengers could fit comfortably and there would be space for more. At its side, there’s a shower with frames of fine glass. He decides the shower will be enough. He’ll have time to try out that bathtub later; for now, he feels weariness sore his muscles. 

Loki pulls away from Thor and starts stripping off his attire. And he’s reminded of how strange and ridiculously difficult it is to take off these Sakaarian clothes. He could conjure his seiðr to simply vanish them, but then he would deplete his remaining sources. Arriving here cost him a high price, having to spend most of his seiðr, but he does not regret it. He did what he had to. So he ends up ripping the stupid attire, he will not miss it anyways. 

When he turns to Thor, he finds him just as he left him, standing with all his clothes still on, just staring at Loki. There are still tears threatening to fall from the corners of his swollen eyes, and his golden hair is all greasy and dirty, not to mention his face—even though his skin has healed, his expression looks broken and devastated. 

_ Oh for Norns’ sake _ , Loki thinks.  _ Fine, I’ll do it myself, as always. _ And so he starts divesting his brother. When he’s done, he attempts to enter the shower, but Thor catches him by the elbow, and something jabs him right in the chest. Loki turns around to find his brother’s eyes filled with nothing else but sorrow. 

Thor fixates his glance to Loki’s neck, hands tracing his arms up and up. Loki catches them before they can reach a dangerous zone. 

‘ _ tis fine. Look, I’m here. It’s nothing really _ .’ Loki kisses the back of one hand and quickly turns around, heading to the shower and dragging his brother with him. To his fortune, this time, Thor lets him. 

Loki opens the shower, letting it run until it’s scalding hot, and then he gets in, permitting himself to feel the heat he desperately needs. He knows there’s an irony in this; a Frost Giant—a runt, but Jotün after all—and he has never been a true ally of heat, but there’s nothing as pervasive as the cold of space. A kind of stench that nails into the skin like thousands of little stakes, and he has developed a certain aversion to it. 

Then he’s scrubbing himself clean, rubbing a lathered sponge roughly, insistently brushing his scalp with liquid soap and washing it all with water. When he’s done he looks up at Thor and, as he presumed, he’s been standing motionless, just watching him. It’s almost like he’s expecting Loki to disappear. 

_ Ugh _ . Loki can’t blame him, not for that. The blame is all Loki’s. 

So he takes Thor’s hands and brings him in. Loki searches for the sponge and Thor wraps his hands around Loki’s hips. His touch is so light and hesitant, but desperate with need, as if he would go mad if he does not touch him. Loki understands, he feels just as affected.

Flicking his tongue around his teeth, he scrubs Thor’s skin with the sponge. He gives Thor the same treatment as himself: rubbing at his chest, shoulder to shoulder, down to his breastbone, his stomach. Then he pulls one of Thor’s hands up to clean it thoroughly, knuckles, fingers, palm and the reverse. When all the dirt and blood is gone, Loki scrubs up Thor’s arm, and after that he passes to his other hand and arm. Then both of his thighs, his knees, and down to his feet. He stands up, and, ignoring both Thor’s erection and his sad pup look, he turns him around to clean all the rest.

Thor starts sobbing again, and when Loki flicks him back and Thor wraps his hands around Loki’s hips once more, Loki lets him. Loki pulls Thor’s head down to him so he can wash his hair, and Thor rest his head on Loki’s shoulder, hiccupping. They stay like that, as he rest his head against his brother’s shoulder.

They stay like that forever. One of them, Loki is not sure which one anymore, kisses the other on the shoulder and then the other does the same, then they’re scattering kisses all over each other’s skin. Light ones, rough ones, with teeth, tongue and so much despair, and need, and hopelessness, and something more dangerous and intoxicating than affection. Then he’s pulling his brother into a kiss, mouth to mouth. And Thor pushes him against the glass, pressing his body into him, and Loki all at once moans and grasps wildly, tearing Thor’s hair a little. 

Thor looks at him for a second, eyes dark with lust and want and grief  _ and—and shadows _ , and then he’s crashing his mouth against Loki’s for another hungry kiss. All patience, gentleness or else art of seduction are forgotten. Thor’s calloused hands roughly trace Loki’s body, gripping patches of skin as he passes. Loki keeps on moaning and grasping, tearing Thor’s hair and scratching his nape. (They lie and call it caressing, they believe in it and so they sooth their thirst and drink all of it, to then take more and more.)

A hunger, rabid and ravenous, consumes them. 

It’s really messy; they struggle, pushing and pulling each other, crashing their bodies, their limbs and lips, clicking their teeth and sinking them into flesh. Loki keeps Thor’s hands and mouth away from his neck, and Thor bites him and grips him tighter for that. And they are hard, so painfully hard, aching merciless for each other, edging into madness. The sole thought inebriates them, hocus them,  _ primes them. _

Thor tries to grab him again but Loki turns around, his brother growls into his ear and presses him against the glass. There are more open mouthed kisses and teeth scattering over his back, his shoulder blade, his spine and nape. Loki shivers uncontrollably. The blood accumulated on his cock boils, to a point where it aches, and Loki cannot help himself but enjoy it. Thor’s whole structure crushes him, arms constricting his frame, and Loki shivers and shivers. His mind is clouded, dizzy, spiraling vertiginously.

“ _ Loki _ ,” Thor grunts, voice consumed by desire. Hips rutting erratically against his ass. “ _ Loki _ .”

And  _ oh _ Loki knows, Loki wants it too, more than anything, more than his life. It’s always been like that, hasn’t it?

Thor grabs him by the waist, shoving him against him. And Loki feels him, so perfectly, so desperate,  _ so much _ . It’s delirious. Thor’s chest presses into his back, his face against Loki’s, beard scratching his cheek. Loki hears him mutter something, a plea, a demand, both, neither. And he cannot bear it anymore.

‘ _ Yes,’ _ he wants to scream.

Curse him. Curse Thor, above all. And his seiðr be damned.

He calls upon the piteous remains of it and conjures oil directly in his entrance, it’s nearly not enough but it will do, it has to.

‘ _ Brother _ .’ He turns his face to look Thor in the eyes. ‘ _ Please _ .’

And then his brother enters him with one relentless and everlasting thrust. Loki loves every part of it, how it burns, how rapturous it feels, how  _ good _ it feels. It makes him crave for madness. Pulls out all the air of his lungs. It feels like being at the very edge of death and life and it’s everything.  _ Loki loves him _ .

Thor bites his lips and Loki kisses him in return. 

“Yes, Loki, yes,” Thor says and starts to fuck him hard.

Loki has to put both hands in the glass to steady himself. He thinks it’s the only thing that keeps him here, standing.

He thought he would never have this again. He thought he would never see Thor again. He thought he was condemned to burn an eternity alone. He thought everything was lost —

Thor traces a path with his teeth from Loki’s lips to his cheekbone and ear. “I knew you were lying,” he whispers, and it’s almost like a hiss. In any other moment Loki would hate that, but now, it sends a sharp pulse of electricity that nibbles the ends of his nerves. Makes him moan, helpless and needy.

“But you are here. You came back to me.” It’s so sweet, nearly forbidden, and dangerous like dancing along the border of an abyss, and Loki’s legs quiver wildly.

Thor plants a hand on Loki’s chest, right over his beating heart, fingers digging over the deadly scar Kurse left, the other hand squeezing his hip. He’s manhandling him to get a better angle, hips working just so.

_ It is too much. _

“Never leave me, Loki.” He says. It’s a buzz rumbling through his eardrum, invading his mind, rigging his spine, like lightning. “You can’t.” And thunder imploding inside him. 

_ It is a mess. _

And Loki’s body, Loki’s mind, Loki’s treacherous soul, is spiraling mad, rambling and darting, and giving in and in. 

_It_ _is chaos itself._

His brother slides a hand up holding Loki’s jaw and angling it so he can have access to his mouth again. “Stay with me.”

And Loki thinks, where else would he go? What else does he have?  _ What else could he want more?  _

How could Loki leave him? There’s nothing else in the universe.  _ Nothing _ . 

Just Thor.

_ And it is unleashed. _

And Loki comes.

. 

After Loki finishes his shower, his brother chooses to linger in it a bit longer. Loki thinks it’s good. He treasures his time alone—no matter how short it is. In fact, he could use some time for himself. 

He feels the urge to clear his mind. There are just too many things… thoughts clouding his judgment. Too much has happened since he last saw Thor, too many things have changed, a whole new scenario he didn’t even think of. Well, he didn’t think at all, and that’s what most annoys him. 

Really, what in the nine realms possessed him to come this far without considering the consequences? There were just too many different possible scenarios that could have happened... He had no plan—he just wanted to come back to Thor and, like a lapdog, he did it. A reckless thing to do, especially for him, more than anyone in the universe, even if it ended up with him landing on his feet. That was a mere question of luck. 

But now he’s here and the weight of his impulses falls upon him like an endless waterfall, threatening to drown him. He has to make up his mind; he has to think of something, anything. 

Loki feels like he should be weaving a new scheme, but nothing comes to his mind. 

**. ** **  
** **. **

Thor decides to stay in the shower a bit longer when Loki exits it. He really doesn’t want to let him go at all, but he knows Loki wouldn’t go far anyways. He lets the heat of the water run over his body; it makes him think of Nidavellir and the blistering force of the star running through him, how he felt he was going to die there, how for one moment there was nothing else in his mind, how real it was. But he came out alive. 

He had to; fate wanted him to kill the óvættr. And so he did it. 

There’s a certain kind of numbness itching over his chest, it feels like the hand of a draugr. Thor turns off the shower and leaves the bathroom naked and soaking. 

He catches Loki sitting on the same couch they were before, drinking the bourbon. Loki doesn’t look back at him, he seems fixated in his goblet, although Thor knows he has seen him. Thor lets him be, for now, going to his wardrobe and pulling a shirt and a pair of breeches from the mess of tangled fabrics that has become his wardrobe. He sees some clothing neatly folded; he supposes it must be Loki’s doing. 

When he’s clothed he walks to Loki, watching him carefully. His brother still isn’t looking at him.

“I see you have found clothes for yourself,” Thor says, “or should I say you stole them, hmm?” Loki is dressed in Thor’s own clothes: a black shirt, long-sleeved and high-collared, and a pair of loose cotton breeches. 

He picks up his own goblet that still has bourbon. 

“Let me tell you, the pair of joggers does not quite suit you,” he says, walking up to Loki until their knees are nearly touching. Thor has to look down so he doesn’t lose sight of Loki. “However, that,” he points to the shirt, “looks perfect on you, dear brother, much better than on me.” 

Loki looks up to him, wide green eyes peering through thick inky lashes, red-swallowed lips hovering at the border of his goblet _ . For all the ásynjur, he’s so beautiful, his little brother _ . Thor swirls his glass for a moment and then drinks. 

“It was a gift from Erik Selvig and Lady Darcy. The mortals have this festivity called Christmas, suspiciously similar to Júl; they feast and exchange gifts with members of their family and close friends. And this is what they gave me.” He remembers that night dearly. “Though I don’t think Jane knew about it, she would have known that those were not my style and certainly not my size.” 

It had been a good night; he had drunk, eaten and danced until dawn, and had only stopped because his friends could not follow his pace. Since then he has treasured that feast as few others—and now, Thor thinks, it has become that much more valuable. And just like that, the memory turns bitter in his tongue, making something ache inside his chest. 

Loki shakes his head, dark curls dancing in the air, and it enthralls Thor for a moment. Then his brother meets his eyes again, a shade of a sly smile adorning his face. It would be perfect if there were not locks of his hair all over. Thor laughs and pushes Loki’s hair back into its place with his fingers, purposely fluttering over Loki’s smooth-cold skin. Loki leans into the touch, _so willingly and all for him_. Thor feels a sudden burst of lust boiling his blood. He wants to pull out his cock and feed it to Loki. _He wants_ _it._

He traces a bite mark along Loki’s cheekbone, that is only his; Loki hisses and drives away just slightly. And Thor can see the skin of his neck covered by the collar of the shirt. But not yet; his wants would have to wait for now. 

“Loki,” he calls, assuring his tone is serious enough for Loki to understand. “Tell me something.” His fingers are still tracing Loki’s skin, moving down to the collar. But his brother this time drives away completely from his touch, slapping his hands when Thor tries to touch him again. 

Thor has to repress a sudden burst of rage. 

“It was him. Was it not?” 

Loki looks away. His pride— _ his self _ —openly hurting, unable to hide it. He nods. 

Thor tightens his fist into a ball, all the anger caged there. 

“Your voice,  _ he _ took it.” It’s not a question, so Loki doesn’t nod, but both of them know he’s right. Loki's gaze narrows to a point so intensely that his eyes are watering. 

Thor’s rage bites viciously into the palm of his hand; he opens it and kneels down, grabbing Loki’s jaw and angling it so they can face each other. 

“I should have brought you his head,” he tells him. Loki’s eyes go wide, pupils narrowing. He searches in Thor’s eyes, as if there was a trick in his words. “I should’ve brought you his head so we could hang it somewhere where the whole universe could see it. So they would know who not to mess with.” 

Loki shakes his head as if it were not enough, and with that, Thor feels the weight of all the blame, all his failures, plunging down into his body like knives ferociously goring his entrails, dragging his body to Hel. 

“Then, what? What would you have wanted me to do with him?” Thor snarls, grasping the sides of his brother shoulders and hunching over himself. “Tell me, Loki. Would you have preferred that I brought him to you? Bound and alive, so you could rip off his head with your own bare hands?” 

His brother only stares at him, with a look he can’t decipher; it infuriates Thor to the point he has to jolt Loki a bit to draw him out of his stupor. Then Loki shakes his head again in response. Thor doesn’t understand, what more could he want from him? What else could  _ he _ have done? 

“ _ I _ killed him, Loki,” Thor barks, voice cracking, body trembling in raw emotion. “I’m the  _ one _ who killed him. I’m the one who went for his  _ fucking _ head.” He did what he had to do, what heroes do, what a  _ real _ Avenger would do. “Not any other, just me! Loki, me! I saved the universe! You understand that?”

Loki must understand this; Thor  _ needs _ him to understand.

Thor’s chest pangs with every beat his heart gives, it almost takes his breath away.

‘ _ Yes, yes you did, _ ’ Loki says finally, running his hands along his brother’s arms and up to his face, cupping his jaw in the so familiar way. ‘ _ Brother, of that there’s no doubt. You were the only one who could do it.’ _

His words are like honey beer dripping down his parched lips, wetting his mouth and sweetening his sour tongue. Thor lets himself collapse over his brother and Loki catches him making a startle-muffled sound, but Loki notices him. 

“Yes, Loki, I’m the only one,” he murmurs, almost asking for approval. 

Thor embraces Loki’s lithe body, anchoring himself with such an impetus and relief that his breath becomes rasp. His brother wraps his arms around his back, fingers gently scratching the back of his scalp.

‘ _ I know, brother, I know. _ ’

It feels so good, so welcoming, so safe. Like home. Thor buries his face in the younger’s shoulder, breathing his essence, imbibing him.

Thor could never be satisfied of this, could never get tired. He needs this like he needs breathing, more even.

To think he almost lost him. Again. This time forever.

He presses himself into his brother’s body, practically desperate. Thor wants more of this, of him. It makes him delirious.

Thor yanks Loki by the hips, bringing him closer, and Loki yelps with a sound that only aggravates Thor’s thirst. He trails a path of kisses over Loki’s shoulder and up to his jaw. He is so sweet, his little brother. How not to fall for him? 

“I want you  _ so _ much,” he pants in Loki’s ear and,  _ oh, _ the sounds he makes when Thor starts to rut his hips against Loki’s opened legs. “Lo, let me have you.”

His hands get under Loki’s clothes, tangling in them. Thor considers just tearing them apart, but his brother’s nails sink into his scapula, stinging in a way that wounds and satisfies at the same time. It sends an electric pulse running all over his nerves, making him delirious and wanting more and more.

Thor’s mouth has become a downpour of lewd and soft whispered words, that he does not mind to stop, can’t, while Loki’s mouth scatters kisses and licks down the collar of his neck. And Loki’s body shudders and shudders so erratically that it’s making Thor’s body crush him until they feel each other’s whole structure: sharp edges, tender flesh and hard muscles. And Loki’s cold fingers against Thor’s scalding skin, descending for his chest and abdomen and the waist of his breeches and then under it; it takes forever but Loki takes his cock in hand and starts to work him.

And it’s perfect, skillful and steady; it’s inexorable and unforgiving pleasure. And then it’s all a haze, a blur of thrusting and panting, pressing himself into Loki more and more until Thor can’t find the split between them anymore, until they’re melting together. Until Thor comes undone in Loki’s hands and he’s nothing more than a boneless man over his brother’s body. 

For a moment they’re just that, a knot of tangled limbs and ragged breath and beating hearts. For a moment they cannot be anything else, if they untie they will crumble in synchrony. 

When Thor is able to pick up his bulk, he looks down to his brother and he can’t help but kiss him, savagely, gripping Loki’s chin. Then he drops to his knees to slide up the shirt and scatter open-mouthed kisses all over Loki’s stomach and down his navel, and down the sharp of his hipbone and down his pelvis. 

Thor distantly listens as Loki whines and twists wildly; he skims the border of his teeth over the skin and the raven coarse hair, pulling down the waistband and freeing his brother for him. He has to spare himself a minute to admire Loki, all hard and in need, for him and  _ just like him. _ Thor loves that. 

Without further ado he takes Loki in his mouth, all at once, spreading apart Loki’s thighs and securing them around his shoulders, digging his digits into the tender flesh and working up and down. Loki produces more of those choked, high-pitched noises, squirming and trying to pull Thor’s short hair. And there’s a desperation in the action that has Thor completely enchanted, sending a thrill over his spine and encouraging him to work harder.

And so Thor does, with tongue and mouth and hands, until his brother is coming undone and Thor is sucking him dry.

Then he pulls off completely and lays his head on the inside of Loki’s left thigh to watch him catch his breath. Loki’s chest rises and falls erratically, head lolled on the back of the couch, face coated in sweat and flushed with the sweet effect of the afterglow. He is looking back at him, despite the dizziness and the weariness, evergreen tired eyes observing through half closed heavy-dreamy eyelids as Thor places a hand on his breastbone, feeling the crazy beat of his heart against his hand.

Loki looks worn out, utterly wrecked and consumed but pleased. He reaches Thor’s hand, trembling slightly, and tangles his fingers with his. 

**.**

It takes a while before Loki can breathe normally again. Thor is curled to his side, head placed on his chest, an arm wrapped at his waist and the other holding the goblet that has been emptied and refilled a couple of times, yet not enough.

They have been in silence all this time and Thor doesn’t find it uncomfortable at all, he enjoys it even; just the two of them, able to be this close without a real need of unnecessary prattle or petty argument. The intimacy in the act is something they hadn’t reached until now and it feels as refreshing as familiar.

Yet, something crosses his mind while he listens the cadence that Loki’s breathing and heart make together. He looks up to his brother, separating himself just enough so they can face each other properly.

“It is the bond, isn’t it?” he questions, almost without doubt. “That’s why I can listen to your voice. Like when were children and we didn’t want anybody else hearing our conversation so we used our minds… our bond.”

Loki listens carefully and seems to be processing all Thor’s words one by one, then he blinks and puts on a knowing face. Thor realizes that Loki hadn’t thought of it until now, and his chest fills with pride at the knowledge that he’s won in something where his brother has always bested him.

‘ _ Oh don’t get so blatant about it. It’s just that I didn’t have time to think of it; eventually I would have realized.’  _ Loki flutters a hand dismissively, a light flush embellishing the high of his cheekbones. 

Thor just laughs softly and gives him a peck, trying to soothe his anger. “Mother was right; we do have that special bond of siblings. Like her parents!” 

Mother was the first to recognize the depth of their relationships, even before they realized it themselves, and she was nothing but understanding and sympathetic even. She had told them the story of her parents, of how they were brother and sister and how they shared the same name as symbol of their union, a bond that joined them in a unique love, beyond any other, just like his and Loki’s. They were meant to be together: as siblings, as lovers, as a twin pair of dual Deities, and as the last two heirs of a dynasty. They belonged  _ together _ .

Loki gasps, flustrated and fully aware of Thor’s thoughts. Thor finds that endearing; he leans into his brother, holding one of his hands and bringing it near his face. “Together,” he murmurs, playing with their fingers and tilting his face so their noses touch.

Loki swallows something heavy and nods slowly, his eyes completely fixated on Thor’s and starting to water around the eyes. ‘ _ Together _ ,’ he answers, closing the space between them.

There’s a knock at the door, which is so sudden that it takes them aback. Loki makes a face that is somewhat frustrated and startled. Thor frowns. 

“What?!” he shouts, gazing at the door as it were the main cause of the problem.

There’s a second of silence, then a mumbled discussion, which angers him even more.

“It’s me, Thor… Rocket!” the rabbit responds with a nervous note in his voice, then there’s more discussion. 

“And Bruce Banner! We —” he shouts with the same anxiety. “We’re here to check on you, buddy… and your brother, of course!” 

Thor sighs, looking back at Loki, who makes a face, cocking an eyebrow and shrugging his shoulders.

“C’mon pal! We mean no harm, okay?” Rocket says and he really does sound truthful. Thor hears him snort lowly. “We’ll bring an offering of peace if that’s what ya want…”

“That’s n— I’m not sure if that what’s Norse people used to do,” Banner mumbles. What they don’t know is that Gods have a particularly sensitive ear. 

Before Banner and Rocket can start another muted discussion, Thor decides to answer.

“Friday, open the door.” 

“Yes sir,” Stark’s computer system responds and immediately unlocks the door with a clink.

“You can come in now,” Thor says after a moment of waiting. What would be stopping them from doing it? Are they pretending that he welcomes them, when they were the ones who came uninvited?

The door finally opens and Rabbit is the first to step in and look around, quickly spotting them on the couch. Banner is holding the door for him and Thor can notice in his face some hesitance, unlike Rabbit who’s walking chirpily to them.

Thor tugs Loki at his side tightly, feeling the sting of possessiveness, an urge to make them know. His brother makes a sound of protest but lets himself be held; Thor pats his thigh to soothe him before looking straight to their forced-guest.

“Listen buddy— _ ess _ , I meant what I said okay? My hands are empty but my offering of peace is more… metaphoric,” Rocket says, lifting open paws in the air; Thor knows he speaks from the heart so he nods and turns his attention to Banner. 

The man seems to get it and hurries to close the door. “Yeah, same here.”

“See? It’s much better now that we are friends again!” Rocket says, choosing to sit in an armchair in front of them. “Besides, I gotta say that dude, War-Maker… is it? Anyways, the way he acted... not cool, man.” He keeps talking as he seeks for a comfortable position to sit, the chair dwarfs him and it’s completely comical. “Like what did all that chat of the bigger fishes and the little ones even mean? Criminals? Well, I got a secret for you: not so long ago, I was a criminal; I can still be if the situation requires it.”

He sounds sympathetic—too much, Thor thinks, but he doesn’t seem to be aiming for anything really, and Thor doesn’t detect sarcasm either, so he is possibly being honest. He decides to believe in Rabbit and laugh over what he said.

‘ _ Oh really, a little thing like you?!  _ ’ Loki says— _ thinks _ —with a tone of disbelief. Thor snorts at that. 

“Truly, brother, I’ve seen Rabbit fight and kill over a thousand of _T—_those monsters.” Thor pauses for a moment to drink, suddenly feeling his tongue dry. He clears his throat and continued. “They came to him in waves and he killed them all! Him alone, just with a machine gun!”

‘_I’m sure that must have been quite a battle._’

Except no, it wasn’t. Thor drinks a bit more, the aged-saccharine taste of the alcohol burning down in an agreeable way.

“Well…” Rocket utters, giving a confused glance to the brothers. “I wasn’t all that alone, I was with the man of the metal arm… and for a moment, at the start, I was with Groot.” Those last words are articulated with hardness and grief. 

Of course, thinks Thor, Rocket lost Tree in the battle of Wakanda. In fact, he lost all his crew, his friends, his family. Of course, hardness and grief must be plaguing his heart. Thor understands him more than anyone.

“Come join us, ‘tis a good bourbon to share with  _ friends, _ ” he offers with something similar to an empathetic smile and showing him the bottle.

Rabbit whistles and hums approvingly. “It would be an honor!”

Thor nods and his friend returns the gesture with the same smile. Then he rises from his seat and spots Banner still at the door.

“And you?” Thor asks, and he has Banner’s full attention. “Are you going to join us too,  _ friend _ ?”

Banner blinks, considering his options. “Yeah, sounds like a good idea…”

“Good,” Thor murmurs, going to look for more goblets. 

**.**

Rabbit starts telling a story—after a couple of drinks, nobody seemed to have something to say, so he took the opportunity. He talks in a way that sounds like he’s talking about a distant time in the past, but there is a tremble in his voice that makes Thor think it isn’t so long ago. Nevertheless Thor says nothing and continues listening the story that, word by word, keeps getting more interesting. 

Banner, whose presence Thor has almost forgotten, speaks up. “Let me see if I understand.  _ You _ and your friend were chased all across outer space by a troll in a boat?!” he asks, repeating the same words that Rocked used and yet sounding completely startled.

Rabbit dismisses him with a hand.

“Now I know what y’all are thinking, how the hell is it possible that an old deformed troll with just a freaking space-boat and a stupid stick can chase across the galaxy two young, brave and clever—and handsome—guys with the best ship of the galaxy?” he claims, stirring up and clumsily walking towards the bottle. “Well I have to tell you the geezer was a good hunter, and a bullheaded bastard!”

Thor laughs because does he know about that. “Yes they are, specially when you dare to desecrate their dear taverns; that seems to wake their full rage.”

“Agree. Huh. Talking ‘bout near experience, are we pirate-boy?” Rocket says daringly looking at him while he pours another glass.

Banner’s attention is now fixated on Thor, and he knows that he also has Loki and Rabbit’s. It’s rather an interesting feeling.

“Well I must say that my youth was a time full of reckless and  _ ill-advised  _ feats,” he answers, remarking the word with a special tone to mock Loki. They cross side-glances for an instant, then he’s looking at Rabbit again. “Though I recall more than one time that the fuss was started by trickery.”

Loki nudges him in the ribs and starts complaining about how that is not true, but gets—accidentally—interrupted by Rocket.

“ _ Ah _ trickery, an old, good and reliable fellow!” It seems he really believes in his words because he even lifts the goblet to cheer alone to the air. “Groot and I, in our golden times, we used to bring her along on all our adventures. We were so creative when it came to it—I used to think up the craziest shitty plans and Groot would straight up follow me!” There’s a pure, radiant emotion in his words, it sparks up something in his eyes and in all his being. “That guy was a total cuckoo and even more fearless than me! You know there was a time…”

For a moment Thor cannot help but think of Volstagg, and the thrill he used to put in telling his stories, the feats that Thor and his friends had been through, no matter if they had won or they had to retire to win some other day in the near future. For a moment Thor lets himself be enveloped in that same thrill as he enjoys Rabbit’s tale.

Thor sees in him a truly honorable warrior, a clever man and wise strategist and a leader, loyal to his comrades, loyal to the people he sees as kinsfolk, and they see him as the same, a friend.  _ Thor’s friend. _

When Rocket finishes his tale it leaves a bittersweet taste flooding the air and setting on his tongue. It’s like all of the sudden that same sweet thrill, that ancient magic of tale-telling, has worn out, sucked by the bitterness of their reality.

“Yes, the bastard knew a lot about trouble and fun,” Rocket says, forcing the words out of his mouth and trying to sound smooth, mockery struggling with something wet and hard. “Regardless of his shape, he used to gave us a lot of those…  _ us... _ ” 

Rocket seems lost in a thought, trapped in the ghost of a memory, for a moment, then he shakes his head and drinks from his glass.

A silence floods the place. Banner clears his throat uncomfortably. Thor feels himself drowning.

Out of the corner of his eyes he catches his brother lifting his goblet, sparing a glance to him as to communicate something.  _ ‘To trickery and its reliable fellows!”  _ he says.

Thor silently nods, squeezing the flesh of Loki’s hip apprehensively and then lifting his own glass. “To trickery  _ and friendship! _ ”

Rocket glances at them suspiciously but ends up imitating them. “Yeah, to trickery and friendship, whatever…”

Banner, who’s been keenly peering at his brother and him, decides to set aside his previous discomfort and join them too. “Skal for that!” he claims awkwardly, but they pay no mind.

Instead they clink their glasses and take a long sip. Thor swallows hard the too-bitter drink, thinking how much he dislikes this.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The number of chapters is an estimate, I can’t predict if there would be a change bc, that too, is beyond my power.
> 
> Also I added more tags bc idk when to stop. 
> 
> Last but not least thank you guys so very much for your kind comments, kudos and subscriptions. It makes me so happy❤️🖤❤️


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